Armen
by White Wolf Guard
Summary: A story about a handsome Bastokan hume, who is allergic to cats and claustrophobic, with a passion for hunting Morion worm and a crush on a mithra.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the NPCs in this story and I don't own FFXI. SquareEnix... or Squeenix, as I like to call it, does. Akamai is not my character, either. She belongs to a friend.

**Armen**

_Chapter 1_

by Billie

Pandemonium

* * *

"You better not cause any more trouble, Armen. I mean it," Lame Deer reprimanded the handsome, young hume standing rigid before him.

"Don't sweat it."

"I would say 'if you're going to do it again, don't get caught this time,' but I'd rather not encourage you at all. You should serve Bastok instead. You've lived here all your life, haven't you?"

Armen sighed dejectedly and nodded to the galka towering over him. As usual, Lame Deer was absolutely right, and Armen knew it. He'd heard his lecture a million times before but lacked the courage to go out into the world and explore. Instead of becoming an adventurer, Armen became a thief, a Bastokan pick pocket. Other people with his skills put themselves to good use by joining their nation's conquest or expeditionary forces.

Armen's reasons for not joining in and mingling with other adventurers was that he was simply too lazy and kind of shy. Seeing as how he was raised as an orphan in the Bastok Mines District, his interactions with people were sparse, and he grew up seeking acceptance and being sensitive to rejection. He gave up fighting for over a month because he was sat in Valkurm Dunes for weeks without so much as a side glance from the other adventurers that grouped together and beat up sea creatures. Even though he could Sneak Attack, nobody thought he was very cool because he fought with a dinky knife. He wanted some action too, and he refused to go into Korroloka Tunnel, no matter how many people talked about how great it was.

"You should go farm crystals and sell them for profit," Lame Deer suggested empathically.

"Yeah… I guess so."

"Unless you have a better idea."

"No, it's not that. Farming just gets so boring."

"Hmph. Too bad."

Rolling his eyes, Armen turned and walked away from Lame Deer, lazily letting his feet fall heavily against the cobble stone steps heading down into the Bastok Mines District. 'Crystals won't make me rich… then again, stealing won't get me too far either,' he mused. He knew he had to rise in rank and in fame to make money, and more importantly, friends. Soot filled his nostrils as he passed the Zeruhn mines and made his way behind the auction house to the residential area.

'I think I'll write a letter to Gerbil…' Armen smiled as he gripped the doorknob and turned it.

As soon as Armen opened his door, his Moogle burst outside excitedly, and squealed, "KUPOPO!"

"Ahhhg!" Armen jumped back, taken by surprise. "W-what!?"

Moogle wilted, "Kupo… Your flowers, kupo…"

"Err… oh yeah…" Armen had completely forgotten about the flowers he was growing…again. God forbid he ever have a dog. He wondered why the city even let him have a Moogle. Reaching into his satchel, Armen pulled out a stack of acorn cookies and presented them to his Moogle. "Here. For you."

Moogle lit up and nodded, accepting the gift graciously. "Thank you, Master! Kupo!"

"You're welcome, kupo," Armen grinned, entering and closing the door behind him. He had to admit that he was a strange hume; he liked galkas far more than other humes and he respected them more, his only friend was a tarutaru from his rival country of San d'Oria, and he bonded with his Moogle, whom he named… Moogle. Also, every week he would plant seeds in his brass flower pot on the day corresponding to the element of the crystal that he would have Moogle feed it a few days after the seeds were sown, and every week he would forget to feed the plant, and it would wither away and die. Even though he could fight walking saplings in South Gustaberg and obtain grain seeds for free, he insisted on buying vegetable seeds because grain seeds smelled funny to him and he didn't want the odor sticking to the walls of his moghouse.

Armen pulled his chair out from under his maple table and fell into it with a contented sigh. He scanned the tabletop for his writing supplies as he slid the flowerpot aside. With a yawn, he reached for his ink and parchment. Dipping his pen in the ink bottle, he realized he didn't know what to write. He didn't really have any accomplishments to tell her about or any new friends to introduce her to. Staring at the parchment, he ruefully remembered the last time he'd traveled from Port Bastok through North Gustaberg into the Palborough mines.

* * *

He began his day enthusiastically enough, with the incentive to fight Young, Amber, and Amethyst Quadav, to collect shell shields and back plates to sell at the auction house in Bastok. However, it wasn't an hour before Armen began to feel uneasy in the dark, closed walls of the mine. He was claustrophobic, and he thought that he could just brush it off, but as he wandered further into Palborough, he became overwhelmed. In his effort to find a way out without a map handy, Armen found himself in a room leading lower into the mine. Defeated, he sat in a slump against the highest wall, shaking and breathing heavily. A couple elvaan men passing by paused only to laugh at Armen, who said nothing in return. He was mortified, and the feelings were amplified when a little tarutaru girl had to show him the way out. After they exited the mines, Armen could breathe again, and he began to relax. 

"Are you okay?" she tugged on his pant leg with concern.

Armen's embarrassment quickly defused and turned into gratitude. "Yes, fine, thanks."

"Whataru is your name?" she asked in the sweetest tone she could, hoping he didn't want her to leave him alone. She tilted her head curiously.

"Uh, Armen…" he became lost in thought. 'She's so short. I wonder if it's considered rude to sit down.'

"Hellowello, Armen! My name's Gerbil-werbil!" she exclaimed happily with an energetic wave and a friendly smile. She hadn't introduced herself inside because she knew it was their first priority to find a way out.

"So, um, Gerbil, are you from Bastok? I've never seen you around before…" Armen felt rather awkward looking so far down to meet her gaze.

"Nope! I'm from San d'Oria!" she saluted with pride. "This is my firstaru time in Bastok."

"Ah… I'm embarrassed that I got lost in the mines. I should probably buy a map," Armen confessed.

"Well, I don't have a map of Ghelsba outpost. I go there a lot to chop wood but that's only a couple acre-wacres of it… and orcs roam the area freely, so I've gotten hurtaru there many times before…" Gerbil blushed, circling the tip of her foot in the soil shyly. Sensing Armen's discomfort, she perked up and waved him down to her. "Come, sit down with me!"

Complying, he set himself down on a large flat stone without much height. From the new angle at which he looked at her, he could examine Gerbil's features. "You're cute," he blurted out casually, without thinking. Mentally, he kicked himself. The last thing he wanted to do was freak her out, but she knew he meant nothing by it. Blushing again, she giggled, "Thank you!"

"You're wearing a field tunic… Do you mine, too?"

Gerbil shook her head. "Not really. This just happens to be the most comfortaruble. Someday I might though," she smiled thoughtfully. "I really-weally enjoy woodworking, but if I want to advance past initiate rank, I should probably practice other synthesis too. Do you craftaru?"

"Me, nah…" Armen frowned.

"Do you want to?" Gerbil poked Armen.

"Heh heh, yeah, but it's too costly," Armen poked back.

"I'll help you as bestaru I can."

"Er… you will?"

Gerbil nodded. "First, you need to make money. Do you want to come with me to San d'Oria?"

"When?"

"I have to go back this evening."

"I wouldn't be ready by then… I've never been past Valkurm Dunes before…" Armen confessed.

Gerbil gasped, "You've never been to San d'Oria!?"

Armen shook his head.

"Well, let's exchange addresses, and we can be pen pals!" Gerbil smiled warmly.

Armen nodded, "Okay."

It was in one of Armen's letters that Gerbil discovered he possessed only a workbench and a flowerpot. She spent hours in Ghelsba outpost logging maple and holly logs, as well as most of her nights in Ronfaure killing ding bats for the wind crystals they dropped and tunnel worms for the earth crystals they produced, then she would synthesize lumber and hone her carving skills by making scores of acid and bloody bolts. By the end of the week, she sent Armen a letter promising him some furniture at no cost to him. Armen was skeptical at first, mostly because she hardly knew him and he doubted she could be so kind to someone she'd barely exchanged a few letters with. He was in for a pleasant surprise.

Returning from South Gustaberg with a Steam clock in hand, Armen weaved through the masses sitting around Firewater Circle, and turned left into the hallway between the Metalworks and the residential area. As he reached Malene's house, the thought of auctioning off her precious steam clock occurred to him. She'd never been all that kind to him; she was always just asking him to do things for her, like getting stupid clocks back from notorious monsters. The piece of junk probably wasn't worth anything in the market though, so he rapped on her door, and heard her old haggard voice answer, "Come in!" Reluctantly, he entered, and returned the clock. She was grateful enough to pay him 500 gil, and for that, Armen was grateful. He would've lost it if she'd shoo'ed him out the door like she'd done previously. Funny story really. She'd thought that he was her grandson, and he'd told her she was a crazy old hag.

Armen returned to the residential area, passing Sororo's magic shop on the way. Relieved to finally have time to rest, Armen opened the door to his mog house and was greeted by his excited moogle. "Kupopo! There was a delivery for you, Master!"

"Huh?" Armen glanced around the room at the maple table against the west wall and the simple bed against the east. "No way!"

"Kupo!"

"I can't believe it!" Armen reached out and ran his hand along the edge of the maple table in disbelief. No one had ever been so generous to him before. She was so sincere. He wanted to be like her, honest and deserving of love and respect. It was this act of kindness that motivated Armen to map out his future, and he vowed that he would someday repay her kindness. In the meantime, he would write to her.

Knowing full well that it would take much time to become who he wanted to be, Armen decided he would start out at Zegham Hill, collecting beehive chips and fire crystals to sell and make money, then after he felt he was strong enough (and equipped properly), he would venture across the Konschtat Highlands into the Valkurm Dunes. Priding himself in being self-sufficient, Armen would take up cooking when he had enough money to practice steadily until he reached initiate rank. If he needed advice on cooking, he could always go visit Parraggoh in the Mines District. He was a grumpy galka, but he'd lived beside him for years and he was the only person he really felt comfortable asking.

Armen's plan was a sound one, but he desperately needed new armor and a new sword. He hated to do it again, but he was so eager to put his plan into action that he was willing to steal one last time before swearing not to take from innocent adventurers again. After this last act of dishonor, he would work proudly for Bastok and to repay Gerbil.

Armen's general rule was to stay away from white mages, black mages, dragoons, other thieves, and high level dark knights, ninjas, or rangers. Beastmasters, summoners, and bards were fair game. They were always putting on shows and making extra money on the side with minimal effort. Red mages didn't put on shows, but they were snooty, so if they had something he could use, Armen would try to take it. Usually though, they were equipped with swords that Armen couldn't fight with. New adventurers were usually without anything valuable and in a situation financially worse than his own, so Armen left them alone too, unless they provoked him.

"Today's the day," he told Moogle as he was leaving his moghouse, "I'm gonna be rich, and I'm gonna level up!" However… Armen was shit out of luck. Bustling about Bastok were all the people he tried so hard to avoid. He couldn't stoop so low as to steal from a white mage, and he didn't want to risk being shot by a ranger, or suffering magic burns from a black mage, and being mauled by an angry wyvern wasn't a becoming thought either. Beside the fountain in Firewater Circle, a tarutaru was putting on a fireworks show, and in the tight crowd watching the show stood a dark knight which appeared to be about level 40 by the equipment she wore. Armen was already apprehensive of the distracted dark knight, but she was a mithra with a scythe. Mithra had very keen senses, and they were faster than any hume. If he was caught, he was in trouble.

'Oh, hell, why not? You only live once,' Armen thought amusedly, while his voice of reason spoke unheard, 'and you only die once too.'

Throwing caution to the wind, Armen casually strolled up to the group, and not letting his fingers tremble, sleekly removed the red-haired mithra's money pouch from her waist belt. Pretending to lose interest in the show, Armen walked away into the residential area, where he broke into a sprint. He tried to avoid the main street by running through the alleyways, but he didn't run very far before he felt his body tense up and his feet glued to the ground. He was caught and bound by a spell that he couldn't break. 'Ahh, shit.'

The sound of her armored boots tapping on the pavement became louder as she approached him nonchalantly. Her manner was cool and collected, but it was obvious that she was pissed off. She stopped when she stood in front of him, pressing the cold, steel blade of her scythe to his chin. Vindictively, the mithra asked, "… Where is it?"

Grinning sheepishly, Armen reached into a sleeve inside his jacket and revealed her money pouch. "I don't suppose an apology would suffice?" he chuckled nervously as she snatched back her gil. Removing the scythe from Armen's chin and holding it upright for her to rest her weight against, she pondered. "Hmmm…" As she looked him over, her ears perked up and she grinned at him roguishly.

"W-what...?" Armen couldn't fathom the wicked thoughts going through her head. He wasn't sure if being turned in to jail would be better than whatever punishment a mithran dark knight at level 40 could whip up.

"Heh heh. So you like taking things? ... Do you like having things taken from you?" With a single, swift swipe of her scythe, the mithra sliced Armen's belt, causing his pants to fall to his feet.

Armen blushed profusely. "H-hey!! W-wait, don't do that! Please?" he begged as the mithra calmly removed the rest of his clothing, leaving him in only his skivvies.

Clothes bundled up in her arms, she turned to walk away, looking back over her shoulder to eye him up and down. "Not bad," she grinned. "What's your name?"

"… Armen," he replied, figuring he was in no position to deny her any answers.

"Laters." She strolled away cheerfully with her tail swishing behind her.

'Well, shit. My moghouse is clear on the other side of Bastok,' Armen sulked, testing to see whether the Bind spell wore off by attempting to step forward. 'This'll be a story for Lame Deer. Boy, would he get a kick out of this one.'

While Armen was waiting for the coast to be clear for him to run across the winding streets to the residential area in Bastok Mines, the red-haired mithra went to the auction house in Bastok Markets. As she approached Khonzon, he said monotonously, "Do you need me to send something out?"

"Sure, hey, drop this stuff off at Armen's moghouse, will you?" The mithra handed over his belongings and Khonzon nodded. That was that.

* * *

Gnawing on the end of his pen, Armen stared at the ceiling. 

"Kupo…" his moogle interrupted his thoughts and nudged him.

"All right, all right. I'll go!" Armen huffed. He quickly scribbled out:

_Hey Gerbs, _

_I haven't been up to a whole lot lately. My career is at a stand still, but I'm going out tonight to Valkurm Dunes. I need to get past 17. I just need to advertise myself better and stop looking so down in the dumps. If I can look competent, I'm sure someone will take me into their group. In fact, if there are enough people, I'll make a group of my own. I'll see you later, Gerbs. Good luck with whatever it is you're doing right now! As soon as I reach level 20, I'll suck it up and go visit you all the way in San d'Oria, okay?_

_Sincerely, Armen_

After writing the letter, Armen folded it into thirds and sealed it in an envelope. He'd drop it off at the Auction House deliveryman on his way out. He packed a satchel with food and equipment to take with him on his trip. He was ready to give it another shot.

* * *

**_A/N:_** I started writing this fanfic when I first started playing FFXI. I played for a little over 2 years, then decided it was definitely time for me to quit. That was a year ago. I dug up this piece of unfinished work and decided to put it up for all to see because I gave my characters personality, and what I miss most about FFXI is my characters' personalities. That sounds creepy, doesn't it? But this fanfic serves as a little reminder that I can create a fun, totally awesome stud of a character. (I thought Armen was pretty cool, many others would disagree. Lol) 

Anyway, here are my characters' details as best as I can remember, for those that are interested in continuing reading this fanfic or liked Armen enough in my story to wanna know what became of him:

**Armen** is a male hume from Bastok. He reached level 64 THF, and he had some sweet equips, including the Rabbit Charm that I lusted after on Day 1 of playing FFXI. He did take up cooking, and he got to around level 40, and he also took up Goldsmithing until he reached level 30. Besides Thief, he liked Ninja and Ranger, which were both around level 40 when I quit.

**Gerbil** is a female tarutaru from San d'Oria, who started out as my mule but became my main character for almost a year. Because she grew up in Sandy, she is only attracted to elvaans and fell for one named Lysis, but her feelings were unrequited, so she settled on a level 75 PLD elvaan who proposed to her _who will remain unnamed_. She got her woodworking to about 70, and did some other stuff, but I can't remember the levels. lol

**Aydia** is a female hume who lives in Jeuno. She too was a mule, but I always tend to play with my mules at least a little bit, so she reached level 37 WHM sneakily, by staying anonymous the whole time and forming her own parties... she did eventually level her BLM to 17 for Warp though. What a slacker! She is Armen's "big sister" who is searching for him but can never seem to be in the same place as him at the same time. ::snicker::

**Lorelai** is a Windurstian mithra who loves to explore, adventure, and take risks. She made her home in Norg and Kazham. She remained a Level 2 THF the entire time I had her, but she retrieved more maps than any of my other characters, and explored further than any of my other characters too. She spent tons of Armen's money on Silent Oils and Prism Powders. Her favorite game to play was "Dodge Gob" in the Kazham Jungles, and her favorite place to hang out was the Temple of Uggalepih.

**Dishtowel** is the very much abhorred Bastokan elvaan mule of mine. He reached level 21 RDM without a sub-job because he likes to collect hats and subligars. His favorite outfit is composed of: Sandals, the rare/ex 2005 designer Summer Sash (I just can't remember what it's called, but that's what he would call it), a Traveler's hat, and a Dog Collar. He was such a rebel.

Last, but not least, **WiltingPetunia** was my depressio-galka who spent all his time in Valkurm Dunes as a level 1 WHM. He tried to power level somebody once, but it didn't work out so well. He likes to pretend he's a pirate when he goes up in the ship on the beach. I only had him for about a month. Armen needed someone to hold all his junk while he crafted. Poor Petunia… so used and abused.

As for **Akamai**, that is a long time friend of mine who got me into FFXI. Curse you, Akamai! (Oh and Akamai went from Dark Knight to Monk and got it to 75.)


End file.
